


Love Potions and Strange Notions

by BarelyFragile



Series: October 2017 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Ron's feeling amorous, and Draco's being jealous, love potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarelyFragile/pseuds/BarelyFragile
Summary: Ron has a bit of an accident with a love potion that intensifies Draco's jealousy throughout the day.





	Love Potions and Strange Notions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. This one's a bit late, and I really struggled writing it. This is for the October 3rd topic of 'love potions' for the prompts given by [drarry-halloween-fest](drarry-halloween-fest.tumblr.com), and part 3 of the short drabble-like things I've been writing. I think this is stand-alone enough that you don't need to read parts 1 ([Sensitive to Touch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242526)) and 2 ([Sleeping with Spiders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251694)), but they'll definitely provide context. Enjoy!

Harry knew that allowing Draco to keep the love potions he’d bought the previous day just littered about on his shelves was a bad idea. Love potions always made him nervous, ever since the unfortunate incident with Ron and the bezoar in his sixth year (as well as the numerous attempts to sneak him love potions through his food and drinks), he’d tried to keep well away from them. 

And yes, he was a little upset with Draco right then. If only the blonde had acquiesced to trying out his research project back at the castle, instead of in their flat, maybe none of this would have happened. A part of Harry also blamed the sudden cold turn the weather had taken. October was too early for the chilly winds that had been bothering them for the past two days, and it made everyone want to stay inside. Draco had outright refused to make the walk to Hogwarts from their flat in Hogsmeade, and the apparition point made available to the handful of eighth year students was closed during the weekend.

Harry also blamed Hermione, though he’d never admit that to her face. Ron was her boyfriend, and, at least in situations like these, her responsibility. The young woman, however, was furious and seemed to barely be containing her anger as she watched her beloved’s behavior, and Harry knew she’d eat his head if he made a peep. But why couldn’t Ron have been more careful? Who in their right mind went around sniffing random love potions, just for the hell of it? Ron hadn’t realized that some powerful potions could work through inhalation, and before either Draco or Hermione grasped what was going on, Ron was sprawled across Harry’s bed with his shirt off. 

Ultimately, Harry blamed himself. As much as love potions made him uncomfortable, his curiosity had been piqued. Since early that Sunday, Draco and Hermione had been busy mixing different ingredients and casting various spells on the potions Draco and Hermione had bought (Hermione had brought her own three bags of love potions over at 8 am sharp, while Harry was still warmly cuddled into his blankets – that hadn’t been pleasant). By noon, the room smelled like sweet sugar and coconut, like he’d walked into Honeydukes, a perfume that was familiar but he couldn’t identify, and a strange musk that made him flush if he spent too much time focused on it. Before Harry knew it, his head had fogged up, and the dizziness, mixed with the warmth that seemed to permeate his skin even while sitting right next to the window, made him get up and examine the potions that the two had finished with. 

Ron, who’d been sitting across from Harry, had looked up at him with a complacent and peaceful expression, and asked, “Does it smell like new parchment to you?” Harry had shaken his head no – in fact, when he focused some more, he could distinctly pick up the scent of old, dusty parchment, like the kind he’d expect to find in the restricted section of the library – and a dopey smile had filtered across the redhead’s face, as if Harry was being particularly ridiculous. Still, Ron had followed him, apparently intent on finding the source of the smell. He’d sniffed each and every bottle of love potion he could reach while Harry asked Draco and Hermione about their project, and before Harry knew it, Ron was wrapping his arms around his midsection. He’d dropped chin on top of Harry’s head and squeezed, and Harry had felt confusion rising with each passing moment. 

Draco and Hermione had realized what was going on first, and Draco was too busy being amused to help his bushy-haired friend figure out how to reverse the effect. After about thirty minutes of colorful spellcasting, during which Ron had gotten progressively closer to taking of Harry’s shirt by chasing him around the room, Hermione had shrugged and pronounced that the effects would wear off eventually and Harry would just need to deal with his newly amorous best friend. Draco had nodded vigorously.

And thus, Harry sat on a corner of his bed, settling on the side Draco had occupied the previous night as it smelled sweeter and warmer to him, and tried to keep Ron at bay. For his part, Ron seemed to contend himself with just touching Harry, as the current hand on his kneecap testified, and focused on his own homework admirably well for someone under the passing influence of an unknown love potion. 

Every now and then, the taller boy would let out a great sigh and move his hand further up Harry’s thigh. Harry, being Harry, didn’t notice the action until the redhead “accidentally” brushed his fingertips along his backside. Harry jumped in surprise at the contact, and fell off his bed with a loud crash that had both Hermione and Draco hurrying over to his side. Ron smiled down at him flirtatiously over the edge of the bed, and Harry, though physically fine, could not help but feel like something was really, really wrong. 

Beside him, Draco huffed in frustration and checked him over for any injuries before shooting Ron a particularly nasty glare. The redhead was too busy trying to reach for Harry’s hand, but Harry winced at the venom apparent behind Draco’s grey eyes. He hadn’t seen that look since they had first formed their uneasy friendship, and he thought it a bit unfair towards Ron, who, after all, was not really in control of his actions. Besides, it wasn’t like Ron was doing him any harm. 

As the day went on, Ron seemed to only become more physical, and Draco and Hermione more irritated. At one point, Draco snapped at Hermione for not casting her diagnostic spells swiftly enough, though she’d responded by smacking him over his head with a large book. 

Finally, as Harry was finishing up his homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts – he always left it until the end as the class easily the most interesting of the six subjects he’d finally decided to take that year, and N.E.W.T. level Defense provided a challenge that filled Harry with a blood-warming rush – Draco seemed to reach his tipping point. Beside Harry, Ron, who had not had as much success completing his class work, and had his arm wrapped around Harry’s waist, fingers slipping under the worn black shirt Harry had on to spread across his stomach, flirtatious smirk firmly in place, suddenly seemed to freeze. 

Harry moved the pale, freckled, offensive arm away from himself and shot Draco an annoyed glance. The blonde was being more aggressive than Harry could remember him being in recent times, and it did not suit him. What had gotten into him?

Draco, who seemed perfectly content to ignore Harry’s glare, turned to Hermione and read over her report, making changes every few sentences, while Hermione cleaned up the mess of potions that surrounded them. Once the final bottle had been stoppered, she cast an air freshening charm that suddenly cleared Harry’s head. Harry had stopped noticing the heady feeling that had hung about him all day, making him groggy. Now he felt wide awake, cold, and like something essential was missing. Or forgotten. 

“The potion should wear off within the hour, I think,” said Hermione, looking confident and hopeful, and not at all upset about Ron being petrified while trying to grope Harry, before blushing lightly. “I’ll take him back to his room. Good night Harry, Draco.”

Silence descended upon the room once the couple left. Draco still refused to look at Harry (though Harry couldn’t be sure that he was being avoided since the blonde was still busy with the paper he and Hermione had written), and Harry packed his own work away. The night was still early, and like the night before, Harry felt a strange restlessness take a hold of him. He felt flush and warm, and really wanted those grey eyes to look at him. The day had been a bizarre one, and Harry always felt awkward around Ron and Hermione once they were in couple mode. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Draco, but attention seemed as good of a place to start as any.

As if sensing Harry’s gaze, Draco packed up his own work and neatly placed everything back into their correct places. It had surprised Harry the first time he’d realized that Draco was a neat and organized person, at least when it came to their living space. The boy himself was so disorderly in both the spread of his work and the way in which he carried his emotions that Harry had expected an equally messy room. Upon further reflection, he’d realized that the blonde himself was always impeccably tidy and ordered. It would have bothered Harry, but Draco didn’t seem to care at all what Harry did with his own side of the flat. 

When Draco finally looked at Harry, he felt a strong shiver run down his back. Harry forgot that he wanted to fight with Draco about how harsh and unwelcoming he’d been towards Ron, especially as the day drew to a close, but there was an intensity to the blonde’s eyes that made his throat go dry. Harry stared back as openly as he could, while fighting the urge to run away, or hide himself behind his blankets, as Draco looked straight into him. It wasn’t until Harry squirmed under his look, a small twitch of his shoulder, that the pointy boy looked away.

He gestured towards a small table near the corner of the room. “Do you want to play?” he asked, and Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak quite yet, and made his way over. The table contained a fancy chess set that Narcissa Malfoy had gifted the two of them when she’d discovered that Harry enjoyed playing. Though he was nowhere near Ron or Draco’s level, Draco at least knew how to play to Harry’s skills, and Harry even occasionally won a game (which he full well knew was because Draco let him). The board itself was made of black and clear crystal, and the pieces glowed with red and golden light for Harry, and green and silver for Draco. 

As they settled in to play, Harry, feeling both brave and confused, placed his knees against Draco’s. A tingle spread through his body at the touch, and he held his breath for a moment, waiting to see if the Slytherin would pull away. When nothing happened for several moments, Harry sighed internally in relief. A tickling flutter had taken up residence within his stomach that made it a bit difficult to breathe, though he didn’t mind at all. 

Halfway through the game, as he moved his golden knight to take Draco’s bishop, Harry felt Draco’s feet catch one of his own between them. The blonde continued playing as if nothing had happened, while underneath the table, his toes gently rubbed against Harry’s ankle bones. 

A deep pounding started up in Harry’s chest, but Draco didn’t say anything. Harry felt confused, at first, and then tried not to focus on the hammering of his heart, or the fluttering in his chest, as realization dawned upon him, slow and steady. But this feeling was new, and Harry wasn’t brave enough to address it. The only thing he could be certain of was that he would dream of stormy grey eyes that night, and that their relationship would never be the same – Harry knew how intense he got when he developed a crush, and this was Draco Malfoy, of all people. The only thing he could do right then was just enjoy the feeling of warm toes massaging lightly away at his ankles and the steady heat of the thighs pressed against his.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and unedited. Please feel free to let me know how I can improve.


End file.
